


The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn

by secretsinmysoul



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Fluff, I'm Sorry, M/M, Moulin Rouge AU, Prostitute Bucky, Shameless Smut, Smut, Stucky - Freeform, if that's even a thing, steve x bucky - Freeform, steve/bucky - Freeform, stevebucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:36:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsinmysoul/pseuds/secretsinmysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I can't believe I've done this. A multi-chapter Steve/Bucky Moulin Rouge!AU because everyone needed that in their lives?<br/>Bucky is the most sought after male courtesan at La Chambre Rouge in Paris. Steve is a struggling artist, new to the area, who Bucky initially confuses with rich Duke Alexander Pierce. Against all odds and all reason, Bucky can't stop himself falling in love with Steve. But the club needs money if Bucky and his family are going to survive. That means Pierce needs to believe that Bucky loves him, and only him, and definitely not a certain penniless writer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My heart wants to sing every song it hears.

Steve had moved to France on a whim. He wanted to be like the famous revolutionists he'd heard about in Paris; fighting for beauty, freedom, truth and above all love. He felt America wasn’t the right place to do so but Paris – well Paris was the city of lights where dreams came true and revolution raged.

Steve was an artist. He adored all of the arts; he drew, wrote poetry and songs, he admired dance (he was never very good at it, but he still adored it). Montmartre was to be his new home and even though some said it was depraved and full of debauchery, Steve thought it represented freedom and progress.

He had been living in his tiny apartment for no longer than a day when a tall Norwegian man crashed through his ceiling. The large man had the biggest muscles Steve had ever seen, and he was also fast asleep. He was shortly followed by three other men who came crashing through his bedroom door. One was short with dark hair and a permanently mischievous look in his eye. Another man, also dark-haired, was wearing a concerned expression on his kindly face. The last of the three was sandy blonde and laughing so hard he was doubled over. They introduced themselves as Tony, Bruce and Clint respectively.

“We’re so sorry but the star of our new and sure to be a hit musical, who happens to be a narcoleptic Norwegian body builder, seems to have fallen through your ceiling.” Tony explained.

“Yeah,” Steve huffed out an incredulous laugh, “it would seem that way.”

Bruce was pacing around Steve’s tiny apartment, nervously muttering to himself.

“Where are we going to find someone to stand in for him? We need to have this rehearsal finished in 3 hours! In 3 hours they’re expecting us in La Chambre Rouge and we have nothing! Nothing!”

“Woah, woah there big guy,” Clint interrupted, “maybe tall, blonde and handsome here could help us out.”

That’s when the other two men followed Clint’s gaze and turned to stare at Steve. Their eyes inspected every inch of his muscular body, roaming up and down.

“Oh yeah,” Tony whistled, “he’ll certainly do.”

“What do you say, fella? Fancy helping three artists out of a jam? For the good of the revolution!” Clint asked.

They didn’t really give Steve a chance to answer; before he knew it he was upstairs with them practicing a half formed play. The three friends were in a screaming match over artistic differences, Steve was surprised their yelling didn’t wake up the still sleeping Norwegian (Steve learned his name was Thor).

The music – by Bruce – and the lyrics – courtesy of Tony – seemed not to be matching up in terms of Clint’s – the playwright’s – artistic vision.

Steve had never seen so much talent in one room. Everything could come together so perfectly, how could these men not see the way?

Steve spoke, well more like yelled, out: “GUYS! It’s simple; the music needs to be an octave higher, and slightly faster, and Tony the lyrics need to be clearer, less complex. Instead of ‘the meadows are thriving with melodious rhythm’ how about we say ‘the hills are alive with the sound of music’?”

The room went completely still. That is, until Tony shouted, “He’s a GENIUS!”

Bruce grinned and demanded, “More, Steve, give us the next line!” as he started to play the tune Steve had described.

So, he sang and the words came naturally, like poetry; “The hills are alive with the sound of music. With songs they have sung for a thousand years.”

“Wow, this kids got real talent!” Clint declared.

“That’s all I need to hear,” Tony decided, “Steve is going to impress Bucky tonight with his talent and we’ll have our musical in no time.”

“That might just work.” Bruce decided.

And that’s how Steve found himself being handed a shot of absinthe and dragged off to somewhere these men all called La Chambre Rouge to meet a man named Bucky and pitch him a musical. The four artists shuffled into a booth - where only the wealthy and higher classes had the privilege of sitting. To Steve's surprise, Tony apparently had enough money to get them all in one. He told Steve he’d arranged him a private meeting with Bucky after the show and if he could just convince Bucky of his poetic talents then the stage was theirs. Steve had never been so nervous. The lights dimmed.

-

Bucky Barnes hadn’t wanted to be a courtesan, believe it or not. He’d desperately wanted to be a triple threat: an actor, a singer and a dancer. He’d always dreamed of being a star.

Working at La Chambre Rouge wasn’t all bad, though. He had a comfortable life due to the fact that he was the most sought after, expensive male courtesan working at the joint. He had expensive champagne whenever he wanted, and got to keep the gifts all his wealthy clients gave him. Hell, he slept on a four-poster feather bed every night and sometimes he’d even get that bed to himself. But tonight was the night everything was going to change; tonight was his night.

The duke was coming. Brock Rumlow, owner of the club and technically Bucky’s boss, had promised that the duke would be at the show tonight. Rumlow had arranged a private meeting between Bucky and the duke after his dance, and if Bucky could just impress this wealthy donor he might be able to turn La Chambre Rouge into a real theatre (and Bucky into a real star). This was his big break.

So, as La Chambre Rouge opened its doors to its wealthy, sordid clientele, Bucky put on his best show outfit and headed for centre stage.

The hall was packed, as it was every night. Rich businessmen filled the floor and the rafters and the most important of them sat in the side booths. That’s where the duke would be – in one of those boxes.

As Bucky stepped into the spotlight the crowd went wild, men were griping for the stage and screaming out for his attention. It was in vain, though; Bucky’s attention was focused on the booths desperately seeking his prey.

His partner, Natalia, stepped out on stage next to him and they began their wild, seductive dance.

“Point the duke out to me.” He whispered in her ear as he gracefully led her around the stage.

“He’s in the booth, the one Stark’s talking to.”

Little did Natalia know that when she spun them around to allow Bucky a better view of the left side of the room, Tony Stark would have since left his conversation with the duke (sat in the booth adjacent to his own) and turned back to Steve to offer him some final words of inspiration.

Bucky looked at the man Tony was talking to and felt, well, confused. This man was tall and handsome, muscular with hair the colour of spun gold and eyes as blue as sapphires.

Bucky had heard the duke was an older man with a particular taste for owning younger, good looking men so he could parade them around as his trophies. The man Bucky locked eyes with was a fucking prize all on his own.

Bucky was pleased; it wasn’t often he found himself looking forward to a night of shamelessly seducing stuck up billionaires. This one looked different, he had kind eyes and looked uncomfortable and out of place in a club as dirty as this underworld Bucky worked in.

He left Natalia on the stage and sauntered into the crowd. He gyrated his hips in time to the pumping music until he found himself staring into Steve’s eyes.

“I'm sorry but tonight, boys, it’s my choice. And I choose you.” Bucky announced, tapping his index finger to Steve’s nose.

The poor guy looked utterly hypnotised by Bucky’s sexual energy and was all too happy to be led like a helpless puppy to his private room.

Steve had to remind himself he had a job to do. Convince this man of his talents and nothing else – nothing selfish.

But God, Tony and the others hadn’t told him how gorgeous this Bucky was. Every man in the room had wanted him but Steve got to go to his room. He’d never been so lucky in his life.

Paris was already turning out to be a good idea.

 

 T.B.C. 


	2. You can tell everybody this is your song.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is here!  
> Steve's been whisked away to Bucky's private room and is hoping to impress him with his poetry. Bucky's hoping to impress Steve - who he thinks is the duke - with something else (something entirely less innocent).

Steve was bundled into what he thought was the most extravagant, beautiful room he’d ever seen. A four poster bed stood in the middle of the room with red satin draping over the frame. One wall was completely taken up by wide windows revealing the most spectacular, sparkling view of breath-taking Paris.

And speaking of breath-taking sights, Bucky was stripped down to nothing but tight leather pants and suspenders as he walked toward Steve. He was so muscular and almost predatory in the way he strode across the room to drape his arms around Steve’s neck and whisper in his ear.

“So,” he purred, “now that you’ve got me here what are you going to do with me?”

His voice was sultry as silk. It made Steve blush but he knew he had to keep his mind focused if he was going to achieve his goal. It took all the self-control he had to slip out of Bucky’s arms to stand in the centre of the room.

“I thought we could just get started right away; I’ll show you the best I can do and you can tell me what you think of it once I’m finished?” Steve spoke quickly, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his nervousness.

Bucky looked surprised. He quickly recovered, though, and fixed his seductive smile and lustful gaze back onto Steve like a missile honing in on its target.

“Well okay then, whatever you want gorgeous. Why don’t we move onto the bed?” He asked, sitting down and stroking the empty spot next to him.

“No, no,” Steve protested, “I prefer to do it standing.”

“Oh.” Bucky was impressed, so he got to his feet much to Steve’s dismay.

“Please you can stay sitting, don’t worry. It’s just it can be quite long and I don’t want you to feel tired. I mean, I want you to enjoy this.” Steve stammered. He was talking about his poetry, but this was completely lost on Bucky, who happened to think Steve was talking about something entirely less innocent.

Bucky was stunned, in awe. There was no way he could be getting this lucky. Not only was this guy handsome but now he had a dick that apparently could stretch all the way from where he was standing to where Bucky was reclining on the bed. Something wasn’t right; in Bucky’s experience if something seemed too good to be true it usually was.

“Let’s get started then.”

Bucky didn’t know what to expect but he had to lock down this deal no matter what. He’d do just about anything this guy wanted if it would save his home.

He watched Steve inhale sharply before he…he started to recite poetry?

Bucky had never been more confused in his life. Yes, he’d had very strange requests from clients before – there was once a man who’d wanted to be walked around like a dog for half an hour before getting down to business – but this was so absurdly, unnecessarily romantic.

At first Bucky assumed it must have been this guy’s way of talking dirty. He’d given overly exaggerated groans and exclamations after each line. The beautiful man across the room wasn’t fazed though and he kept going, completely absorbed in his art.

Bucky realised it was a love poem he was reciting. A love poem written for him maybe? No, something so perfect and pure couldn’t be written for him. Could it?

Steve was so confused. This man – the sexiest, most intoxicating man he’d ever come across – was acting very…very…aroused by his work. This was supposed to be a business deal so Steve was trying very hard to keep it professional, but the sight of Bucky in those tight clothes, bare chested and laid out on the bed was making Steve’s mouth go dry. There was something about the way Bucky spoke, he was clearly American too, that felt familiar to Steve. It warmed his heart. Bucky’s dark blue eyes, like a night sky finally calm after a raging storm, made Steve curious and a little weak at the knees. Bucky was talented too, his number at the show had blown Steve away. But he was there at La Chambre Rouge to do a job, not to fall in love – he would worry about that later. Steve pushed on through the pain and concentrated on his poem.

Bucky was mesmerised as Steve reached the last stanza. He couldn’t tear his gaze from Steve’s soft, blue eyes. They were kind eyes, Bucky thought, and when Steve smiled Bucky felt warm and safe.

It couldn’t be, could it? He couldn’t be in _love_ with this man? Bucky didn’t even believe in love; he believed in concrete things like money and food that could actually sustain you, give you life. Love was a myth, something men went crazy searching for, and Bucky had vowed never to lose himself in such a lie.

But this man; his soft voice, warm eyes and golden hair made Bucky melt. He’d never heard such perfectly crafted, romantic sentences that made his stomach tie itself into a knot. He’d never wanted someone so badly in so many ways; he wanted to ravish this man but also be held by him, kiss him as the sun rose over Paris, to laugh with him and have adventures.

Bucky tried to remind himself these thoughts were ridiculous – the stupid dreams of a child. You don’t end up a courtesan in the red light district of Paris and simultaneously retain your childish beliefs in love and happy endings.

If this man loved Bucky in return though, all his dreams could come true. He could be a star, funded by his one true love. He could sing songs this man had written to a real audience on a real stage, and every night find himself at home in those strong, gentle arms. Could it be?

Bucky stood up, slowly stepped towards Steve. He was tentative as he approached, never once breaking eye contact as he crept closer and closer to those soft lips.

“I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words how wonderful life is now you’re in the world.”

Steve sang his final line softly and sweetly and before he knew it Bucky’s lips were on his. Steve was sure he’d heard fireworks go off in the distance as their mouths moved together, softly and perfectly. It was the best kiss of Steve’s life and as they drew apart he looked into Bucky’s eyes and tumbled, somewhat unexpectedly into love.

Steve was smiling like an idiot; it made Bucky laugh and lean in for another, hungrier kiss.

“I can’t believe it,” Bucky whispered into Steve’s ear, their embrace never breaking, “I’m in love, I’m actually in love, and with a handsome, talented, wonderful duke.”

Steve laughed, “I’m not a duke.”

That’s when Duke Alexander Pierce burst into the room, and Bucky rushed to push Steve behind the curtains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They've fallen in love but things are going to get a little complicated.  
> I wanted to put sexy times in this chapter but it didn't progress as fast as I thought it would.  
> Next time, for sure. I can't hold off much longer.  
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> Feedback, as always, is appreciated so that I know you guys aren't sat there wishing I'd stop writing aha.


	3. Nothing you can sing that can't be sung.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Bucky's in a bit of a tight spot. Duke Alexander Pierce and Steve in the same room, and he's fallen in love with the wrong guy. What's a courtesan to do?  
> This is a longer chapter that should be marked explicit for the sexy times at the end. You've been warned.

“Duke!” Bucky exclaimed, still trying to kick Steve out of sight and under the cover of the curtains.

“Call me Alexander. I’ve been anticipating our meeting for quite a while now. Where have you been, boy?”

Steve heard the voice of an older man, gruff and sinister, even though he was currently crouched behind a table of champagne and caviar and covered from sight by red stain curtains.

“I’ve been…waiting, yes, waiting for…you, of course.” Bucky said, smiling sweetly and striding forward.

“Well, how about we have some champagne before we get started?”

“NO!” Bucky exclaimed, a little too loudly, attempting to deter Pierce from approaching any closer to the hidden writer than he already was.

“No?”

“I mean, don’t you want to sit down? We should get…comfortable, right?” Bucky’s voice returned to its usual sultry and smooth tone.

“Whatever you want.”

Steve took this as his cue to race for the door. Bucky was leading the duke to the bed hand in hand so that his eyes couldn’t let their gaze drift from Bucky’s, which was promising in ways that made Steve’s stomach ache.

Steve was so close, almost at the door, when the duke turned his head towards him and began to ask: “Are you sure you don’t want any-”

“YES!” Bucky shouted. He used his soft hands to cup the duke’s cheeks and turn his head back to Bucky. Steve was now standing directly behind him, and Bucky thought this must be the most stressful days’ work he’d ever experienced.

“What on earth is wrong, boy?”

Bucky panicked.

“It’s a little bit funny…”

Steve mouthed the words of his poem over the duke’s shoulder, Bucky mimicked him out loud.

“…This feeling inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide.”

Bucky was on a roll now, all the duke’s attention on him – his soft mouth, singing Steve’s words so sweetly.

“I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words, how wonderful life is now you’re in the world.” And if Bucky let his eyes drift to Steve as he softly crooned the last line, it was completely coincidental.

“That was…captivating.” The duke sighed, clearly entirely in love with Bucky. Steve knew, because he’d heard that tone before – specifically in his own voice not ten minutes earlier.

Bucky grabbed the duke by his lapels and dragged him onto the bed, quickly and messily he waved one of his arms toward the door signalling that it was time for Steve to leave.

Steve was almost there when he heard Bucky, completely in character, declare: “Let’s make love, right now, no more wasting time running around the room.”

That’s when he moved away from the door, making eye contact with Bucky whose head poked over the eager, completely enthralled duke’s shoulder. Bucky saw Steve’s expression and realised he wasn’t going to leave the room when the man he loved was at the complete mercy of someone else. Bucky rolled his eyes; this is why he vowed never to fall in love.

“You’re right, you’re so right,” Bucky mumbled, “we should wait ‘til opening night!”

“Opening night?” The duke raised his head in protest. Steve ducked behind a table by the door.

“Yes!” Bucky exclaimed, “The opening night of our play, I’m the star; “Mightiest Heroes” is what it’s called. What I sang you earlier is from the score. I never knew what those words meant ‘til we met, though. Can’t you feel it? Our chemistry. We need to combine it to make art. After opening night we’ll make love and it will be so long-awaited, so explosive-”

“Explosive?”

“Explosive and erotic and new. What do you think?”

The duke’s pupils were blown, rife with arousal, the idea of no one being allowed to have what was promised to him drove him mad with desire. Bucky knew that, it was his job to know.

“Yes, that’s the perfect idea.” The duke said, standing up to grab his hat and cane.

Bucky escorted him to door, and gave him a firm, tempting kiss for good measure.

When the older man was finally gone, Bucky dragged Steve out of his hiding place.

“You’re one of Tony’s talented – but tragically impoverished – bohemian writers, aren’t you?”

“I thought you knew!” Steve protested, breaking free of Bucky’s grasp.

“Oooooh, I am going to kill him!” Unbeknownst to Bucky, at that exact moment Tony, Bruce, Clint and a newly awakened Thor were using a rope to scale the side of the building that they were currently arguing in.

“Look,” Steve sighed, “I’m sorry but-”

“Do you have any idea, _any idea_ , what would have happened if he’d seen you?” Bucky was frantic now, pacing the room. Steve noticed he looked a little pale, and Bucky felt his knees weaken slightly but before either man knew what was happening Bucky’s world went dark around him.

Bucky had fainted but luckily Steve had caught him before he could fall to the ground. Steve was completely out of his depth, though. At a complete loss of what to do, he carried Bucky over to the bed and laid him down.

In an unfortunate coincidence, this happened to be the moment the duke burst back into the room, claiming to have forgotten his coat.

“What, in the name of God, is going on here?” He roared.

Steve was grateful that Bucky regained consciousness in time to save him with his silver tongue, smooth talking as ever.

“Why Alexander,” He murmured, “you’ve walked in on a little rehearsal, just in time to meet the writer of our play.”

“You expect me to believe this is some kind of rehearsal? The two of you, alone, late at night in bed?”

And Steve had to whisper a silent prayer of thanks for Tony and his new friends’ eavesdropping fetish because Tony saved them all by bursting through the window and exclaiming:

“How is the rehearsal going, my doves?!”

“Alexander, meet our other stars,” Bucky said pointing to Tony, Thor, Clint and Bruce, “I called everyone and arranged an emergency rehearsal as soon as you left; you inspired me so much earlier tonight I couldn’t help myself.”

Bucky had walked over to the duke and was stroking the lapels of his suit, Steve supressed the pang of jealously he felt.

“Right, well,” the duke cleared his throat, “if I am to invest in this _play_ tell me what is it about?”

Steve sprang into action. “It’s about love.”

“Love?”

“Love that overcomes all obstacles. It’s set in New York. There’s two young soldiers, they meet the night before they’re due ship out, and against all reason they fall hopelessly in love. But after only a few weeks of duty, one of them is captured by an evil dictator. The dictator wipes his memories of his lover and forces the soldier to fall in love with him instead.”

“Keep going, Steve! He’s an excellent writer, isn’t he?” Bruce prompted.

“The other soldier fights through armies and armies of enemies and finally finds the man he loves. The problem is he doesn’t remember him at all! He’s been tricked into loving someone else. The soldier has to find a way to make his lover remember him, and they must hide their love from the evil dictator.” Steve locked eyes with Bucky.

“It’s full of excitement, espionage, forbidden love and drama.” Clint cried.

“Not to mention there are explosions, mechanics, and laser lighting-” Tony chimed in.

“And erotic dance numbers!” Bucky finished.

“It’s going to be unforgettable; you simply must invest, Sir.” Thor said, draping an arm around the duke’s shoulders.

“Yes, yes,” the duke agreed, “I best go and tell Rumlow of my plans to invest in the play – and other things.” He winked at Bucky. Steve cringed.

The rest of the men cheered as they bundled the duke out of the door and towards the office of the proprietor of La Chambre Rouge.

Alone once more, the pair burst into laughter – the tension in the room was finally broken.

“Tony was right,” Bucky said, “you are very talented.”

When they’d finished laughing, Steve couldn’t help but ask: “What you said, earlier, when you thought I was a duke…you said you loved me. Was that…was that true?”

Bucky’s eyes widened momentarily as his gaze locked onto Steve’s, but he quickly lowered his eyes to the ground.

“Of course not, it was…it was an act. I’m paid to make men believe what they want to believe.”

“No…no. You’re right; it was stupid of me to think someone as beautiful as you could ever love someone like me.” Steve mumbled, also looking at the floor.

“It’s not that. I can’t…I can’t love anyone. It’s my job.”

“You can’t love anyone? That’s awful!” Steve exclaimed.

“No it isn’t.” Bucky laughed.

“Yes it is – love, love is a many splendored thing.  Love makes the world go round. Love, love is all you need.”

“It’s not.” Bucky protested, but he was smiling and stepping toward Steve not away from him.

“Love is like oxygen.” Steve insisted.

“Love’s just a dream, it’s for kids! Why live life from dream to dream and dread the day when dreaming ends?”

“No, love lifts us up where we belong.”

“Ridiculous,” Bucky laughed, “you’re ridiculous.” But he held Steve’s gaze longer than he should have, giving himself away.

“We should be lovers.” Steve claimed, stepping into Bucky’s space.

“Why? So you can be mean? And I can drink all the time?”

“I won’t, and you won’t, because all you need is love.”

“A guys gotta eat.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“But I was made for loving you baby and you were made for loving me.”

“The only way of loving me baby is to pay a lovely fee.” Bucky smirked, running behind a pillar in the room to hide from Steve’s tempting, love-sick stare.

Steve followed him. “I can’t survive without your sweet love.”

“You think people would’ve had enough of silly love songs.” Bucky whispered, mostly to himself.

“But I look around me and see it isn’t so.” Steve insisted.

“Love makes us act like we are fools, throw our lives away for one happy day.”

Steve’s movements were fluid and magnetic. He followed Bucky around the room until they arrived at the foot of the bed.

“We could be heroes, just for one day.”

“Though nothing would keep us together?”

“We could be heroes, forever and ever.” Steve confirmed, his lips less than an inch from Bucky’s.

There was no use in running any more. Bucky wanted this, he hadn’t wanted anything for himself in such a long time. But Steve’s words were sweet and warm, they felt like beauty, truth and love.

So when Steve leaned in and pressed a kiss onto Bucky’s lips he whispered in response, “We could be lovers, just for one day.”

That’s when Steve grinned. “I knew you felt it, too.”

“Yeah, yeah, what you waiting around for, punk? You gonna make love to me or what?”

“Definitely.” Steve said, his blue eyes burning with desire. He pushed Bucky onto the bed and climbed on top of him.

They kissed for a long while, slow and indulgent, tongues sliding together. Bucky had never gotten lost in a kiss before, but this was a night of firsts.

Bucky tugged Steve’s shirt off, revealing his clean-shaven, muscular chest. Bucky let out a grunt of approval, “You should be the courtesan.” He joked.

Steve laughed, and sucked kisses into Bucky’s neck and down his chest until he was sucking softly on his erect nipples.

Bucky moaned, his cock hardening. Steve then continued to kiss down the length of Bucky’s stomach until he reached the zipper of his tight, leather trousers. Steve took the zipper down using his teeth, making Bucky shudder with anticipation.

Steve wasn’t particularly surprised to find that Bucky wasn’t wearing underwear; he couldn’t have fit much else in those trousers anyway.

Steve took hold of Bucky’s hard cock, gripping it at the base and twisting up and down, stopping only to swipe his finger over the head.

Bucky was moaning, and for once he didn’t need to fake his exaggerated expressions of pleasure.

“I-I wanna suck you.” Bucky panted, manoeuvring himself to push Steve onto the bed. He made short work of removing his trousers and pants. Soon, Bucky’s plump red lips were stretched around Steve’s cock; he was licking and sucking, eagerly and messily. Bucky played with Steve’s balls at the same time and Steve felt like he might come just from the technique Bucky was displaying.   

“Bucky, you gotta stop I-I don’t wanna come unless I’m inside you.”

Bucky groaned around his cock; he was so moved by the sentiment.

He moved his mouth away from Steve’s length and threw a bottle of lube his way.

“You better get to fucking me then.” Bucky smirked wickedly.

Steve slicked up his fingers and proceeded to gently stroke around Bucky’s hole before he pushed inside. He worked a second finger into Bucky and curled them, hitting his sweet spot. Bucky whined in pleasure.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” Steve taunted.

“Just put it inside me, please, I wanna feel all of you.”

Steve obliged. Bucky got into position and Steve pushed inside of him. Bucky rode Steve’s cock like more than a professional; like he was born to do it. Steve trust his hips up and down, ramming into Bucky again and again. Bucky loved every second of it. Steve reached up to stroke Bucky’s length and in a matter of moments he was coming, and Steve shortly followed – unable to handle the hot, tightness of Bucky any longer.

Bucky had never had an orgasm like this one; the whole world went white, he saw stars. When he came to lie down next to Steve on the bed he muttered, “I can tell you’re going to be bad for business.”

Steve sighed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Buck. I’ll always love you.”

“Me, too. It’s damn stupid but me too, Stevie.”

“Jerk.” Steve whispered.

“Punk.” Bucky sighed contentedly into his lover’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you guys have been so nice with your comments I've upped the writing speed and am giving you chapter 3 early. Thanks for all the feedback, would be great to keep hearing it!


	4. It's a party over here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finds out some news that makes him unhappy and determined to pull away from Steve.  
> He finds it a lot harder than he expected, though, and ends up closer to him than he's ever been to anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the love between them deepens as they party it up Bohemian-style with Thor, Bruce, Clint and Tony.  
> May or may not end with a private dance performed by Bucky for Steve.

The next day, Rumlow demanded Bucky meet him in his office at once.

Bucky was a bag of nerves, but he knew the feeling had to be irrational. There was no way anyone could know about the completely unprofessional, free of charge, wonderful sex he’d had with Steve last night (and this morning); a courtesan was nothing if not discreet.

Fortunately, his fears were sated immediately as Bucky entered Rumlow’s chambers. His boss was the happiest Bucky had ever seen him – a large grin plastered on his conniving face – which could only mean that Pierce had agreed to invest a large sum of money last night.

“My man!” Rumlow exclaimed, pulling Bucky into a hug and clapping him hard on the back. It was congratulatory and giddy with greed.

“I’m guessing your meeting went well last night, then?” Bucky smirked.

“You know it did, you worked wonders on the duke.”

“Yeah, well you know…creepy old men: not exactly a new clientele for me.”

“Careful Buck,” Rumlow warned, eyebrows raised, “that’s really no way to speak about your new keeper.”

“My new what?”

“Listen,” Rumlow said gently, motioning for Bucky to sit in the leather chair opposite his desk, “I got the duke to invest in our little club, turn it into a theatre – which you of course would be the leading man of – it’s like we always dreamed…”

“So, why are you looking at me with those big, sympathetic, shamefully pleading eyes?” Bucky interrupted, wanting to hurry the conversation along.

“I’m just going to be honest.” Rumlow said, sighing and taking a seat opposite Bucky - this conveniently put the distance of his wide desk between them.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“In exchange for the _vast sum_ of money, the duke naturally wanted more than a few nights with you.”

Bucky cringed. “How long?” Weeks, months, a year? Bucky dreaded to think.

“Life, Bucky. He wants you to live with him and to never belong to anyone else. He was, erm, very specific about that last part…quite a possessive man, scary really-”

“And let me guess, you agreed? Without consulting me?”

“I know you want to see our little club blossom as much as I do-”

“You sold me, and I know that’s not a new thing, but not for a night or a weekend but _for the rest of my life_?!” Bucky was yelling now, furious – at his boss, the duke, at Steve and most of all at himself. He knew he should never have let his guard down, developed genuine feelings for someone because life crushes hopes and dreams and all that true love shit. Damn, had he learned nothing in his short, tragic life?

“This is how it has to be, Bucky. You’ll live like a king, you’ll never want for anything ever again.”

 _I’ll want for Steve; for our stupid, naïve, and overwhelming love_ , Bucky thought.

“I’m sorry but it’s this or nothing. We’d lose the club, everyone here would lose their homes. Think of Natalia, of Maria and the others with nowhere to go.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Bucky sighed, his head in his hands.

“We do what we have to to survive, Bucky.”

“I know that, I know better than anyone.”

“Then you’ll agree?”

Tears stung in the back of his eyes, dying to fall. He wouldn’t let them.

“I’ll agree.”

\-----

Later that day, everyone involved in the play met on the main dance floor of La Chambre Rogue.

Steve arrived, closely followed by Tony, Clint, Thor and Bruce. Natasha and a host of other courtesans turned actors were also present.

Bucky entered the room determined to harden his heart to Steve. He knew his fate; a loveless marriage, forever trapped as a possession added to the duke’s collection of expensive objects to be put on display and shown off to the less fortunate. Dragging Steve into that mess wouldn’t do either one of them any good.

You see that _was_ the plan. There were factors Bucky hadn’t considered, though. For example when Bucky saw Steve’s blue eyes come to life as they watched him enter the room. Steve’s full lips curved into a genuine smile and his expression warmed at the sight of the man he loved. No one had ever looked at Bucky like that, like he was worth something more than money.

Across the room the duke was also looking at Bucky but in a predatory, intimidating manner that replaced the warmth Steve had inspired in his heart with a cold chill.

“So,” Steve said, taking Bucky by surprise, “I thought we would start today with the ‘will the two lovers be meeting at the soldier’s apartment tonight’ scene?”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile, he tried to resist the rush of happiness Steve’s attempt at flirting had given him but it was no use. He was so far gone.

Before he could respond, though, Rumlow interrupted: “Bucky, the duke has requested you join him for dinner tonight.”

“You must tell him I absolutely cannot dine with him tonight!”

“What?”

“I will be up all night working on a scene for the play: the ‘the lovers _will_ be meeting tonight at 8’ scene. The duke understands how eager I am to get rehearsals finished and the play underway. He will understand.”

Bucky turned away before his boss could protest and went to discuss lyrics and music with Bruce and Clint.

Steve was smiling like an idiot as he enjoyed the view of Bucky walking away.

Tonight couldn’t come soon enough.

\----

When Bucky managed to sneak out of La Chambre Rouge, aided heavily by Natalia, he arrived to find Steve’s apartment full of his friends all drinking and laughing, Thor was even singing.

Bucky had never seen such a joyful place, it warmed him to see Steve standing in the middle of the room making everyone laugh at his stupid jokes and wild imagination.

Bucky felt a rush of admiration; Steve was beautiful and he had an artistic soul with a kind and optimistic mind. _It’ll be the end of me_ , Bucky thought.

He decided he didn’t care.

“Didn’t realise this was a party.” Bucky shouted over the music, announcing his arrival.

“There’s my favourite courtesan! It’s always a party, my friend. Join the fun!” Tony exclaimed, drunk (as usual), draping his arm around Bucky’s shoulder and dragging him into the room.

“You’re here!” Steve exclaimed, running to Bucky with flushed cheeks and excitement in his eyes.

“I’m here.” Bucky confirmed, trying to act casual.

“Do you want a drink?” Steve smiled sheepishly, looking at his feet.

“Well I think I need to catch up, don’t I?”

A few drinks later and Bucky was just as swept up in the music, lights and laughter as the others.

He was sitting with Steve discussing their favourite artists, their favourite dancers and music. He’d begun gushing about his love of dancing: Spanish tangos and pasodobles, the Russian Mariinsky Ballet. He spoke with a fervour he had forgotten he possessed, and Steve was hanging off his every word. It felt magical, Bucky felt young and free for the first time in a long while.

“I’ve never been able to dance.” Steve mourned.

“Unacceptable!” Bucky gasped in response.

“What is?” Bruce asked, distracted by Bucky’s exclamation.

“Steve says he can’t dance.”

“I don’t believe it for a minute my friend!” Thor jumped out of his seat and dragged Steve to his feet.

“I will teach you a classic Norwegian dance and you will feel the spirit of dance penetrate you as soon as you begin.”

“Okay, buddy, ease up on the penetration. I’m pretty sure that won’t happen ‘til we’ve left.” Tony said, raising his glass in Bucky’s direction.

“Oh, fuck off Stark. Jealously isn’t pretty.” Bucky countered, much to Tony’s amusement.

Tony held his hands in the air as if backing away from a fight. “Fair play, Barnes. Go on then Thor, show young Steve here how it’s done.”

Thor accepted the challenge and it wasn’t long until Steve was jumping around the living room with limbs flying this way and that.

Bucky had never laughed harder. He found it charming. He had an ache in his stomach from laughing so hard. That hadn’t happened since he was a child.

When the drinks were all gone and the night was drawing to a close, Bucky found himself alone with Steve in the apartment. The others had called it a night and gone to their respective beds in the apartment upstairs. Bucky and Steve were still talking though, and Bucky was so surprised the conversation flowed so easily. The pair were enthralled in one another. Bucky didn’t have to pretend to find Steve interesting like he did with his clients. He found Steve genuinely fascinating and he was so attentive; he listened to Bucky, asked him to expand on what he was saying, treated him like an equal and valued his opinions and beliefs in a way no one else ever had.

To other people, Bucky had always been something to be used and moulded to their own will. It was a life and a profession that he’d chosen out of necessity to survive. Steve offered him something new, something more, and it was utterly enchanting. Bucky wanted to offer him the same.

Love, it was love he wanted to offer, he realised.

 “I’m so embarrassed that I danced in front of _you_ tonight, seriously _you_ of all people.” Steve said, his face flushing from something other than alcohol.

“What’s so special about me?” Bucky teased.

“Plenty, but I meant because I’ve seen you dance and you’re…breath-taking. It was like art, my fingers were itching when I watched you because I wanted to draw so badly. My shameful display was an insult to the likes of you.” Steve laughed.

“You haven’t seen me dance, have you?”

“That first night, you danced with Natalia before you dragged me to your room.”

“Oh yeah,” Bucky said, remembering, “sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

Bucky felt the spark again, the tension between them.

“You know, you really _haven’t_ seen me dance.”

“I haven’t?”

“Not properly, not like when I give private shows.”

“Oh?”

“I could show you.”

Bucky watched Steve’s pupils dilate and the expression of arousal sweep across his face. Their eyes locked, and Steve smirked in an almost challenging way.

“Could I afford a performance like that?”

“A struggling, bohemian artist? Never.”

“What a shame.”

“But…you’re fast becoming my exception, Steve Rogers.”

“I’d be anything for you.”

“That’s my line.” Bucky quipped, and they both laughed.

“So…how about that dance?”

The music playing in the background was slow and sultry, a perfect fit for the mood.

Bucky stood up, he wasn’t wearing the best clothes for a performance; a black ribbed undershirt and tight black jeans. It would do, though.

He began to roll his hips, smoothly to the rhythm of the music. Bucky knew he had Steve’s full attention diverted to his crotch.

Bucky dropped to his knees, legs spread, hands caressing his thighs and made sensual wave-like movements with his torso.

On the way up, he removed his tight undershirt teasingly and slowly, revealing his muscles and caressing them as he did so.

He could see Steve was half hard already, but he wasn’t stopping there.

He moved his hands slowly along his body, from his pecks down the length of his torso, stopping just above his crotch.

He then proceeded to thrust his crotch in time with the music, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans. He was moving fluidly in time with the beat, teasing at his button and flies.

In a display of his athleticism, Bucky dropped his whole body to the floor in a push-up position and rolled his hips into the floor, slowly over and over again.

Bucky manoeuvred into a bridge position, gyrated slowly before using his strength to push up onto his feet. It was elegant, athletic and graceful but also completely arousing.

Then as he unbuttoned his jeans, finally, and began to take down his trousers Steve – as if awakening from a kind of trance – snapped:

“Bedroom, now, please.”

Bucky felt triumphant and for the first time ever: truly, genuinely happy.

He moved over to Steve who was sitting on his couch, erection tenting in his own trousers.

“What’s wrong with right here?” Bucky asked, straddling his hips and leaning into a deep, needing kiss.

“Nothing,” Steve said as he rocked his hips into Bucky’s, “right here is perfect, you’re perfect.”

Bucky pressed soft kisses to Steve’s neck and in between he whispered in his ear: “You gonna draw me later?”

Steve moaned in agreement.

“God, I love you. You give me that drawing, Stevie.” Bucky sighed as Steve pulled his pants down the rest of the way and wrapped his hand around Bucky’s cock.

“I already said: anything for you.”

And yeah, shit, Bucky was fucked in more ways than one.


	5. You are the best thing that's ever been mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gives some insight into Bucky's past. Steve loses his cool when the duke is possessive of Bucky during a rehearsal. This leads to Bucky having to diffuse the situation, hurting Steve's feelings in the process. He finds a way to make up for it, though.

Of sacrifice, Bucky knew more than most. When he was only a child, he’d sacrificed his safety, his home and his education to provide for his sisters.

His father had hit the road, never to return again, when Bucky was eight years old and had been an invisible weight he'd carried on his shoulders ever since.

A weight that heavy will drag you way down after a while, lower than you’d ever considered going. Bucky’s mother couldn’t earn enough on her own to keep a roof over their heads. He was only fifteen when he’d stopped begging on the streets and had started to sell himself at La Chambre Rogue.

His sisters had all grown up now; they had husbands or boyfriends, jobs of their own, and they didn’t need Bucky’s money as much. They didn’t want much to do with him when they found out where it had been coming from either. His mother had passed a long time ago.

It hurt like hell – giving everything up for his family only to have them turn their backs on him. What softened the pain was the new family he’d found at his work.

When he started at the club it was a new venture, in its early stages of development, and there were only a few people working there. They were all as broken as Bucky – birds with clipped wings who were trapped in the lowest hanging cage just because they couldn’t fly any higher.

Natalia had been a ballerina, a child prodigy. Her trainers were cruel and merciless. They treated the girls horribly; Nat told him that if one of them missed a performance due to injury or sickness they were cast out and left to die in the streets like a horse that gets shot if it can’t finish a race.

The others had god-awful stories each as inhumane as the last. On the outside, such a place might seem depressing or soul-crushing but for Bucky it was home – he had a new group of people to protect.

So, that’s what he did. When any of the clients got aggressive or possessive or refused to pay up, Bucky was strong and able-bodied enough to send them packing. Everyone grew to love him for his fierce, protective spirit.

Sometime in the passing years, Bucky resigned himself to his role in life. He’d protect his new kin for as long as he could (until he was too old to be a courtesan) and then he’d maybe have enough money to settle somewhere in peace.

Then, when Rumlow started to give him dancing and singing numbers he found something he actually enjoyed, something he was good at, outside of the bedroom.

Anyone can be good in bed but it takes actual talent to perform, and damn could Bucky perform. It made him feel positively about himself, for the first time ever, and so he adapted his life plan: protect his family, earn as much money as possible, and get out of the club to perform on a real stage.

Love? Love was never an option. It wasn’t in the cards for Bucky, it wasn’t something he let himself want.

Love was something he faked to make other people happy and to make himself rich.

At least it was, until Steve Rogers came along.

Bucky’s world became turbulent, dangerous and fucking exciting. Steve made Bucky feel alive and even invincible.

Rumlow had told Bucky that the duke was possessive, almost violently so, but Bucky couldn’t seem to force himself to care when Steve was near.

At rehearsals he found himself enraptured by Steve – the way he moved from group to group as he directed, the way he sang and danced parts of the show to teach the actors, his bright smile illuminating the room.

One way or another, though, the duke always interrupted his trance. When Bucky wasn’t rehearsing, the duke was all over him like fleas on a dog.

He was tactile, groping Bucky whenever he could, and he liked to order Bucky around, showing everyone what his money could buy.

 Bucky obliged; he had to for the good of his friends. Pierce was funding the performance, and part of his payment had been Bucky.

So when he’d slap Bucky’s ass and ask him to bring him a coffee, off Bucky would run like a good boy.

The thing is, each time it happened, Bucky could see the anger building and building inside his lover, under Steve's skin. Some days he'd see Steve's shoulders shaking with suppressed rage.

By the end of their first week of rehearsals the tension was almost too much to bear. Bucky had been avoiding dinner dates with Pierce all week so he could crash with Steve at his tiny apartment across the road, which – though he hated to admit it – was starting to feel like home to Bucky.

Steve woke him in the morning with tea and soft kisses on his neck. Their bed was warm and well-used. It smelled familiar, and wrapped in Steve’s arms was Bucky’s favourite way to sleep. He couldn’t bring himself to give it up just yet, nor could he face telling Steve he was going to have to give it up soon.

Bucky’s absence had made the duke impatient. It was perhaps due to this impatience, that he was being particularly disruptive at their rehearsal Friday night.

Pierce kept pulling Bucky onto his lap every time the actor crossed his path. Bucky would laugh it off, insist he had to focus on his work and move on.

He was chatting with Natalia when he noticed Steve walking over to the duke, a confrontational look plastered all over his usually cheerful face. Bucky tried to intercept but he was too late.

“Excuse me, duke?” Steve asked, his voice coated with aggravation that couldn’t quite be covered with polite niceties.

“Yes, boy.” The duke replied, refusing to look up from the newspaper he was reading.

“Would you perhaps be more comfortable in Rumlow’s office? I’d be happy to have some refreshments sent over.” Bucky was relieved that Steve had at least said something vaguely diplomatic, and not too confrontational.

“I’m perfectly comfortable here.”

 _Damn,_ Bucky thought, _so close._

“Well,” Steve cleared his throat, “that’s great – for you – but I think you’re distracting from the rehearsal.”

“I’m what?” The duke asked, raising his eyes to meet Steve’s. His voice was intimidating enough without those tones of anger ghosting over it.

“You keep grabbing at our lead.”

Bucky cringed. Pierce rose to his feet.

“Son, I am the reason you even have this job. I am the reason any of you have this opportunity. Make no mistake: you are replaceable. And as for your lead actor, just like the rights to this play, he belongs to me.”

“ _Belongs_ to you? He’s a person not a cow!” Steve shouted.

Bucky couldn’t stand idly by any longer. He jumped in between the two men, who were just about nose to nose.

He took Pierce’s hand and guided him away from Steve.

“Don’t worry, baby.” Bucky said, putting on his best pout and puppy dog eyes. He grabbed onto the lapels of Pierce’s suit in a display of needing subservience he knew the man would love.

“He can’t talk to me that way and I don’t like the way he talks about you.”

“Hey, he’s just a poor writer – he’s trash – who cares what he says?” Bucky knew Steve could hear him but he had to say these things to placate the situation. He had to hurt Steve to save his life because he act like a reckless, hot-headed punk sometimes.

“I should fire him.” The duke growled.

“No!” Bucky exclaimed, a little too quickly, “We can’t do that; Rumlow is set on him, says he’s the best writer in Paris. I’ll talk to Steve tonight, huh? Personally let him know who I belong to…” He trailed off biting his lower lip, seductively.

“That’s a good boy,” Pierce said, stroking a hand across Bucky’s cheek, “for now, rehearsal is over until some people learn their place.”

Thankfully after that decree, the duke left. Unfortunately, when Bucky turned around Steve was already gone, too.

\----------------------------------

That night, Bucky climbed into Steve’s apartment through the window. The writer was sat on his couch, pen dangling from his lips. Lit by only moonlight, Steve looked beautiful. His blue eyes met Bucky’s, but they gave away no emotion.

“I’m not a cow?” Bucky asked, trying to break the ice with a smirk and his humorous tone.

“I’m trash?” Steve immediately countered, his voice flat. He was angry then, Bucky supposed and let out an exasperated sigh.

“C’mon, you know that was just for show.” Bucky whined, kneeling at Steve’s feet.

“You’re a better actor than you let on, Barnes.” Steve was quiet, he sounded so forlorn Bucky thought his heart might break then and there.

He rubbed his cheek against Steve’s knee. “I didn’t mean any of it. I swear. If he’d fired you, then where would I be? Where would any of the actors be? Look, I know I’m not so good at this-”

“This?”

“Love.” Bucky whispered. “I’ve never been in love before and I’m fucking terrified. The duke, he’s a very powerful man, he can kill a guy just for looking at him wrong. Rumlow told me so, himself.”

“I’m not scared of him.” Steve insisted, crossing his arms indignantly.

“Well I am. I’m scared shitless that I’m going to lose you. That’s my biggest fear in this whole world, okay? And you did this to me.”

“I did this to you?”

“Yeah you fucking did,” Bucky shouted, “you came into _my_ work, _my_ life, with those blue eyes, that perfect smile, muscles for days and you _dared me_ not to fall in love with you. Well, I fucking lost ‘cos here I am – in love with your reckless ass.”

Bucky looked up to see Steve smiling. “You love me? For real?” He asked, a dopey smile clinging to his lips.

Bucky gave a soft laugh, “Yeah I fucking love you, you idiot. To the end of the goddamn line.”

Steve leant down and kissed Bucky, softly and far too quickly.

“I like that: to the end of the line.” Steve mused as he pulled away.

“Then let’s make it ours. If we can’t be all lovey when we’re at rehearsal and we need to be sure – completely certain – that our love is real we’ll just ask to the end of the line?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, “that could work.”

Bucky pulled Steve into a firm kiss, catching him off guard. He took the opportunity to stroke Steve’s crotch through his trousers.

Steve whined, “ _Bucky_ …”

“I told Pierce I’d remind you who I belonged to, didn’t I? So I’m reminding you.”

Steve was already hardening in his tight jeans. Bucky undid his pants to gain access to his cock.

“I’m going to give you the head of your life,” Bucky purred, as he teasingly stroked Steve’s cock, “so that you won’t ever forget I’m yours, ‘kay?”

Steve let out a sigh, his breath shaky with anticipation. “Yeah...’kay.”

So Bucky took Steve in his mouth, licking the length of his thick cock spending a gratuitous amount of time swirling his tongue around the head.

This was appreciated by Steve, as he softly raked his fingers through Bucky’s hair. He tugged when Bucky took him deep. Bucky moaned at the sensation.

“You like that?” Steve panted, pulling his hair again.

Bucky hummed around Steve’s dick.

“You’re mine, Buck.” Steve said, as Bucky increased his pace. He used his hands to knead Steve’s balls and kept deep-throating him at an intense speed.

“Mine,” Steve chanted as he approached his climax, “mine, mine, mine.”

When he came, Bucky swallowed and slid his mouth off Steve’s cock. Bucky then stood up and straddled the man he loved pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“M’yours. You remember that now.” He whispered.

“To the end of the line.” Steve promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE! Finally! I know I'm a little behind but I really appreciate everyone who reads this fic and gives it comments and kudos. It keeps me going! Not really sure how many chapters away from the end I am now. Maybe 2? Also, the ending may deviate from the film if anyone's interested. Think I'll keep it equally as tragic though.


	6. The day when dreaming ends.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumlow discovers the truth about Bucky and Steve's relationship. Uh-oh.  
> And to make matters worse, Steve makes a terrible blunder at rehearsal when tensions between him and the duke reach boiling point.

Steve tried _really_ hard, like _extremely, tremendously_ hard, to put his jealousy aside. He tried to act professional around Bucky. He really did try.

It was just impossible. Every rehearsal, from dawn ‘til dusk, Steve had to watch Bucky strutting around the stage (in sinfully skimpy costumes) with a confidence only he could pull off.

It was sultry, sexy and downright irresistible.

At least, that’s the excuse Steve gave himself for pulling Bucky away from that day’s rehearsal and into the rafters of La Chambre Rouge for an intense make-out session.

Steve had never felt this way before – there was a giddiness that overcame him every time he got his hands on Bucky. Their kisses were playful and teasing; Bucky would withdraw from Steve, a cocky smirk on his lips daring Steve to chase and reclaim his mouth.

They laughed like kids high on sugar and innocence. Every so often, Bucky would shush Steve to remind him that they weren’t so far from the rest of the cast, Rumlow, and worst of all: the duke.

Their trepidation never lasted more than a few seconds, though, and they’d collapse back into fits of giggles and hungry kisses.

“You have to go now,” Bucky said between laughs, “everyone’s looking for you.”

“I don’t want to go, though.” Steve whined, pressing kisses to the nape of Bucky’s neck.

Bucky sighed and lightly nudged Steve’s shoulders. “Go!” He ordered, his smile still wide.

Steve pouted his lips and gave Bucky his best puppy dog eyes: a last ditch attempt at prolonging their rendezvous. Bucky only laughed and shook his head. He kissed Steve on the cheek to placate him.

“I’ll see you later tonight. I promise.” Bucky called, as Steve slumped away from their hiding place.

He turned back for one last lingering look at the courtesan, his grin unwavering, “Can’t stay away, eh Barnes?”

“Yeah that’s it, Rogers.”

When Steve had drifted from his sights, Bucky gave himself a moment to cool off. He leant his back against the stone pillar Steve had pinned him against just a few minutes ago. He missed the feel of Steve’s hands on his own and the warmth of his strong body.

Bucky couldn’t wipe his own stupid smile off his face.

He was just about to gather himself and walk back to the stage when a voice pre-empted Bucky and snapped him back into reality.

“How could you be so fucking stupid?”

It was Rumlow. His face was a contorted mix of fury and terror, his voice was shaking with rage.

 _Fuck_ , Bucky thought, _play it cool._

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked, feigning surprise at his boss’s tone.

“You’re giving freebies to the writer! Right under the duke’s nose. What is going on in your head, Barnes?!”

All of a sudden Rumlow was closing the space between them, his face only inches from Bucky’s.

 _He’s just trying to intimidate you,_ Bucky reasoned, _don’t give in._

“That’s ridiculous, there’s nothing unprofessional going on between us--”

“Fuck me, I fucking _saw_ you two up here just a minute ago; you can cut the act. What the fucking fuck do you think would have happened to you, to _us_ , if the duke had seen?”

Bucky’s face crumbled, tears stung the back of his eyes but he was determined not to let them fall.

“Fine, it’s true,” he conceded, “Steve and I we’re… we’re in love. I didn’t mean for it to happen but it did.”

Rumlow grabbed Bucky by the shoulders, and lightly shook him.

“You need to make it un-happen, do you understand? The duke holds the deeds to this whole club, if he found out – _when_ he finds out – we’ll all be homeless if we’re lucky enough to still be fucking alive.”

Bucky lowered his gaze to the floor. He was ashamed, ashamed to have put his family in danger, to have been so selfish, but how could he possibly let go of Steve? How could he undo what they’d shared?

“I know, I know,” Bucky whispered, shaking his head, his eyes were watering now, “but I love him.”

“Bucky,” Rumlow said, his voice softer now, “love isn’t for people like us.”

The truth of that made Bucky’s lower lip tremble. He’d never known love as a child, why did he think he could have it now? Love was never a part of his destiny – he was meant to enter into a loveless marriage with the duke, and maybe star on stage, his life was to be lived to expand the pleasure of others but never in pursuit of his own. So was the life of all courtesans. Bucky had been foolish to wish for more, to dream of a life in Steve’s arms in safety and in love.

“You’re right,” Bucky grimaced, “of course you’re right. What do I do?”

Rumlow sighed in relief, “You go to Steve – you tell him you never loved him that it was all an act. You tell him you never want to see him again.”

Bucky shook his head, “He’ll know it’s not true, he’d never believe--”

“You make him believe,” Rumlow asserted, “because if you don’t we’re all dead and that includes your writer.”

When he was young, Bucky had seen a man biting down on a block of wood in the street as another guy sawed off his leg. The limb in question was green and hideous, clearly infected and oozing with it. A crowd of other wayward people had gathered to watch the gory butchering, maybe to make their own situations seem a little brighter. Bucky had followed suit.

The guy couldn’t go to a doctor, how could he afford it? He had clearly had bad luck following him around all his life. So, his friend took a saw to his infected limb and with no anaesthetic – without even any alcohol or drugs – the man endured what Bucky thought was the most painful thing Bucky had ever seen.

Bucky wasn’t sure why he thought about that moment. Maybe he had realised he’d trade places with that old man in a second right now or that he’d give up all of his limbs if it meant he could keep Steve. Maybe he was preparing to do the most painful thing he’d ever do in his life. God knows why he thought about it, but he couldn’t stop the man’s screams from echoing in his mind.

“I’ll do it,” Bucky said, his voice shaking, “but I need some time – I’m a mess.”

Rumlow nodded, “I’ll tell everyone rehearsal will be cut short today. You tell him tonight. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

\----------------

When Steve heard that rehearsal was to be cut short he was honestly pleased. The duke had been especially annoying that day; shouting his shoddy ideas and “artistic input” at _everyone._ This was no exaggeration: whether it was Bruce’s music or Tony’s lyrics or Natalia’s dancing, he had an opinion on it and it wasn’t a useful opinion.

It made Steve so goddamn angry. This man was a talentless imbecile who thought his money entitled him to unjustly criticise every member of the cast and crew - who also had been working hard all day and not sitting on their assesses whining at the slightest fault.

Steve was at his wits end when Rumlow called it a day, and just when he was praising the lord under his breath the shrill voice of a certain duke assaulted his ears once more.

“One more thing before we go.” He announced.

“Yes.” Steve said, gritting his teeth.

“I just don’t think the plot makes sense. I think we need to change the entire last act, I mean why would the solider not want to stay with the dictator?”

The question made Steve’s blood boil. He bit his tongue, hard, to keep from screaming in frustration. The duke did not relent.

“After all, he’s offering the soldier security, a life of luxury and royalty; it just doesn’t make sense.”

Steve took a moment to mentally count to ten. Man, this guy had gotten under his skin like a tick or a parasite.

“We’re not changing the last act, I’m sorry but it’s too late into production.” Steve said, as calmly as humanly possible. A murmur of agreement arose from the cast.

The duke still wasn’t placated. “But it doesn’t make sense!” He declared. “Why would this character want to run off with an impoverished soldier without an ounce of political ambition and with not a penny to his name and leave the dictator: a perfectly good, wealthy man of means--”

“BECAUSE HE DOESN’T LOVE YOU.” Steve’s voice erupted from his throat before he could stop it - before he even knew what he was saying. It rushed out of him like lava spurting from a seemingly dormant volcano and it had the same devastating effect on the room. It sent a violent hush racing around the cast. Everyone held their breath, too shocked to move.

“He doesn’t love him,” Steve corrected, in a low voice, “the dictator, I mean. I…I’m sorry for my outburst it’s been a long day. I…I’ve got to go.”

Steve ran out of the room, fast as his legs would carry him. He’d really fucked up. Big time.

 _Bucky_ , he realised instantly as he fled the club, _I need to make sure he’s safe._

 T.B.C.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's finally updated.  
> I think this chapter makes this work reach 10k and that makes me quite happy.  
> Thank you to everyone who's still reading it 6 chapters in, and major thanks for all the comments/kudos etc they inspire me to write more.  
> As always I hope you like it and feedback is cherished.


	7. Some day I'll fly away, leave all this to yesterday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Steve's messed up - the duke knows about him and Bucky.   
> What will Bucky do when he finds out about Steve's slip of the tongue?  
> What do Tony, Clint, Thor and Bruce have to say?  
> And is it just me or has Bucky been fainting a lot recently?  
> Answers contained in chapter seven!

Bucky was sat in his dressing room, gazing at his own reflection in the mirror of his vanity table. He saw a traitor’s face, a liar, looking back at him. A man conflicted – faced with the impossible choice between breaking the heart of the man he loved and putting the life of that very same man in tremendous danger.

He’d told Rumlow that he’d take care of everything; he’d promised to tell Steve that he never loved him and that everything they’d shared had been a cruel, twisted lie because that’s how Bucky got his kicks.

He’d lied. He’d told a bare faced lie to his boss.

How could Bucky possibly tell Steve that he didn’t love him? As if he’d ever believe that. But if Bucky told him the truth Steve would rush to take the duke down, no questions asked or thoughts spared – he was reckless like that, the punk.

They had to run away. Bucky knew it in his heart.

Yes, it meant leaving his family at La Chambre Rouge. The duke would be furious at his disappearance – so angry in fact that he might order the whole establishment be torn down, after withdrawing his investment of course.

So, worst case scenario, his friends all end up on the streets, hungry with no money, cold with no shelter, all because Bucky had to go and fall in love. What an _idiot_.

The thing is – Bucky’s choice had become leave his friends homeless or watch Steve get himself killed.

It wasn’t really a choice at all.

Bucky rationalised his decision, as he sat at his dresser: he and Steve could run somewhere remote and get jobs or open a business. They could send money to the others back in Paris, maybe enough for some food or blankets or…

…Bucky had done his fair share of wishful thinking before but this took the cake.

There was no happy ending; he couldn’t come out of this scenario with Steve and his friends all safe and fed and contented. This was life, not a stupid romance movie.

He knew he had to protect Steve, though. Above all else.

Steve was the best person Bucky had ever met. The man most deserving of happiness with the purest heart and most nimble, talented mind.

Picturing his lover gave Bucky a renewed strength and sense of purpose. He grabbed the bag he’d worn on his back the day he’d found La Chambre Rouge (always one for the dramatic details) and started shoving his possessions inside.

That’s when Rumlow burst through his door.

“You again.” Bucky sighed without tearing his gaze from his belongings.

When no fit of rage or sarcastic rebuttle was returned, Bucky knew something was wrong.

Well, something more than he already knew about was wrong.

“What is it?” He asked, scared of the answer.

“Your idiot of a boyfriend screwed up, big time.”

“Steve?! Is he alright? What happened?” Bucky shot across the room quick as a flash of lightning, bombarding Rumlow with questions.

“He blew up during rehearsal. Told the duke you didn’t love him. I managed to placate the guy for now but he wants Steve dead – and oh yeah definitely fired as a consequence. I’m not quite sure what he’s got in mind for you.”

Bucky’s mind raced with a thousand thoughts a second. What was Steve thinking? What kind of revenge was the duke plotting? How fast could Bucky get to Steve? Where would they run to?

Rumlow clicked his fingers in front of Bucky’s seemingly vacant gaze.

“Hey, why are you just standing there? Go and tell the writer never to come back here, that you never loved him. It’s going to be tough but I think with your silver tongue and some really dirty sex you can get the duke back on side.”

“No.” Bucky muttered.

“No?”

“I’m sorry, Rumlow, but I can’t. I’ve decided to run away, with Steve. The duke will never find us if we go far enough.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Bucky’s boss scoffed in response.

“Is it? I love Steve and he loves me. I’ve got a shot here at being happy, truly happy – if I marry the duke I’ll be miserable and so will Steve. If we run we’ve got a real chance. If anyone else was in my position – if Natalia had to choose between this place and Clint, between a brothel and true love – I’d tell her to go for it. I’ve got to do this, can’t you see? Love is everything, it’s what makes life worth living.”

Rumlow seemed to consider this for a moment.

“It’s true,” He conceded, “if you marry the duke Steve will be very upset. He’s a good kid, naïve and love sick. His heart will break and maybe it will take years or decades to heal.”

Bucky nodded dubiously, was Rumlow really about to give him permission to flush his business down the toilet?

“If you and Steve gave up everything, and ran away together – say you started a life full of marital bliss and true happiness together in some quaint town on the other side of France. Then, imagine a month or two later you unexpectedly died, leaving him all alone. He’d be lost, he’d have no reason to go on, right? He’d probably kill himself just to be with you again. Wouldn’t it have been better, in that case, to have just broken his heart months ago?  He’d have got on with his life after a few years of pain and who knows, maybe he’d even have found love – happiness – again. That would have been kinder, right?”

Bucky was absolutely puzzled by this point.

“Yeah but what are the odds of that happening?”

“Pretty damn high. I’ve been keeping this from you for quite a while, Bucky, but it’s time you knew the truth.”

“Which is…?”

“You’re dying, kid, doctor doesn’t think you’ll last another year.”

\-----------------------

Steve was pacing around his tiny apartment, surrounded by a nervous Tony, Bruce, Clint and Thor.

Eventually the writer settled down and slumped onto his sofa. He rubbed his forehead, looking utterly forlorn, and repeatedly muttered:

“I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up.”

“Jesus, Steve, it wasn’t that bad.” Tony sighed, trying to break the tension.

“Really?” Steve looked up, ever hopeful.

“No it was basically a disaster.” Tony admitted, cringing slightly at the memory.

“Maybe he won’t kill you though.” Clint chimed in.

“Yes, maybe you’ll only be fired.” Thor agreed.

“Or deported!” Bruce added.

“These are my options?!” Steve groaned.

The men looked solemnly to the ground.

“Anyway I don’t care about me; I need to go back there and make sure Bucky’s okay.”

“That,” Tony said pushing Steve back into his seat, “is a fucking awful idea.”

“Why?”

“You go near that place and you’re a dead man walking.” Clint confirmed.

“I can’t just sit here; I have to know if Bucky’s okay. I need to be with him.” Steve insisted, he was exasperated. He used his strength to push through Tony and Clint and make a beeline for the door.

At that precise moment a feeble knock was heard from the other side.

Steve tentatively opened the door and there he was - Bucky. He looked...different somehow; he was dressed all in black and his eyes were lacking their usual mischievous spark. Had he been crying?

"Bucky--" Steve began.

"Can you boys give Steve and I a minute?" Bucky interrupted, addressing Clint, Thor, Tony and Bruce, his voice flat and unemotional. "We've got some things we need to talk about."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This chapter was long overdue and full of plot, plot, plot.   
> It's quite angsty though and I hope you enjoy a little bit of drama.   
> I have three weeks away from work so expect better updates.   
> Thank you again for everyone who's sticking with this story. I am so appreciative of all the comments and kudos and feedback. Love to you all.


	8. Now I've gone and lost the best baby I ever had.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky lies his ass off to convince Steve he never loved him. It's a hard task to complete but Bucky says the cruelest words he can think of, and he's always been a damn good actor.

The others hesitantly slunk out of Steve’s room, allowing the lovers some privacy. The look of cold, steely determination on the courtesan’s face made them nervous; it didn’t bode well for the writer.

Steve, on the other hand, didn’t seem to comprehend the distance in Bucky’s stance, the vacancy in his eyes. He rushed across the room to where his lover stood in the doorway.

“Bucky, I’m so glad you’re okay. Jesus, I’m sorry for what I did – I fucked up – but I can pack a bag I’ve got enough money to get us across the country and I’m sure I could get more--”

“That’s enough, Steve.” Bucky interrupted. His voice was stern and unwavering. He pushed Steve away, lightly, using his arm to put distance in between them.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, his suspicion growing.

“I’ve chosen the duke.” Bucky’s statement was simple and was accompanied by a cruel smirk.

“What?” Steve exclaimed, “If he’s threatened you, whatever he’s said he’ll do to you – to us – I don’t care.”

“He hasn’t threatened me, don’t be so stupid. He loves me.” Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s, challenging his resolve.

“You think I can’t see what you’re doing? You’re running scared, Barnes.”

“Me? Oh, I’m not scared Rogers. I’m being honest with you for the first time since we met. The duke is richer than God. He can provide for me, give me everything I’ve ever wanted. What can you give me? Nothing.”

“I can give you love. Stop doing this, stop trying to push me away.” Steve begged trying to inch closer to Bucky but he just stepped away.

“I told you when we first met: love is just a game. I make men believe what they want to believe.”

“I never paid you to make me believe anything.”

Bucky scoffed, “Oh you paid me. It’s not often I get to fuck someone I actually find attractive. I knew I was going to marry the duke, I knew it all along, but there you were – my last taste of hot, youthful sex. So I told you I loved you, I indulged your childish, ridiculous fantasies for a while but only to get what I wanted.”

Steve’s expression was pure anger. “So it was just sex?” He shouted, “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Exactly, baby, and it was good while it lasted but pretty soon I’ll be a married man. With all the money I’ll have who’ll need good sex anymore? Not me.” Bucky wore a smug smile, and crossed his arms triumphantly.

“What about all those times we spent in bed together: sharing our past, laughing, making plans for the future. Where was the sex then?”

“Oh sweetie,” Bucky crooned, patronisingly, “that was all part of the fantasy, and you played your role so well I couldn’t help but get a little carried away.”

“You really expect me to believe it was all fake?” Steve asked.

“Well my orgasms weren’t, if that helps.”

“Don’t do this, Bucky,” Steve pleaded, “don’t push me away because you’re scared I’ll get hurt. Whoever, or whatever, is making you do this just tell me. I can choose whether or not to put myself at risk.”

“There’s no risk. Please, I told the duke weeks ago that I was fooling around with you. I was enjoying playing with your fragile, little emotions. We thought it was hilarious, really, you gave us a good laugh. But the play is soon, and my wedding night too. So the joke’s over.”

Steve’s breathing was fast, and shallow, panic rising in his stomach.

“Okay, if this was all fake then prove it.”

“Gladly.”

“Hurt me. Really hurt me then, Buck. If what you say is true, and you don’t care about me at all, you don’t get to just walk away and leave me to crumble in your absence. Break me, _now_. Tell me something that will shatter me. Then I’ll know this isn’t some twisted scheme meant to protect me.”

Bucky hesitated. _Fuck,_ he thought. He wanted to push Steve away just enough so he’d be in the clear – far from Pierce and La Chambre Rouge – he had never wanted to cut him so deep the wound would never heal.

This way, though, if he could follow through in this moment, Steve might even be glad to one day hear of Bucky’s impending death. It had to be easier, to let go of something he thought was never real, than to lose something as rare and spectacular as true love. Right?

“I was trying to do this as nicely as possible, Rogers; you’re a good guy, but if this is what it takes to get you to leave me and my husband alone,” Bucky paused and sighed, “so be it.”

“Bring it on, Barnes, I’m waiting.” Steve stood confidently, made of stone.

“This is the end of the line, Rogers, no turning back. You sure you can take it?”

“I was born ready.”

Bucky laughed.

“You want the truth? The night you told me about your mother – how she died of TB when you were nine and you were too weak and scrawny to get her help – I told Pierce and Rumlow about it the next day. We laughed and laughed; the thought of this skinny little rich boy who couldn’t even walk down the street to get his mother some help. It still makes me smile just thinking about it. You really are pathetic, and you’re still weak on the inside. You’re a decent fuck, though, if it’s any consolation.”

Bucky had never hated himself more. God, what an asshole. He’d cried when Steve had told him that story, genuine tears for the man he loved and the undeserving guilt he carried with him. Bucky loved the idea of his strong Steve as a skinny young boy. He liked to imagine himself, young and tough, protecting Steve from all the bullies and hatred in the world.

Now he was the bully.

Tears stung in Steve’s eyes. How could the man he knew so well be so casually cruel?

“Get out of here.” He commanded. His voice unshaken, his heart torn to pieces.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” Bucky said, nonchalant.

He didn’t even make it out of the apartment complex before he broke down into a fit of tears.

Bucky had always wanted to be the best actor in Paris.

Well, bring on the Oscar because he’d never faked anything as well as he'd faked that.

The man he loved so dearly would hate him now. He’d never see those soft, blue eyes staring at full of affection, making him feel light and safe from the darkness in the world.

But Steve would never know the death of true love. He would be spared the pain Bucky had just inflicted upon himself, and that was consolation enough.

So now: opening night, a loveless marriage, and death.

He couldn’t wait for that finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH THIS WAS SO HARD TO WRITE.   
> I love my babies I want them to be happy. Bucky was so mean and I'm sorry for doing that, guys! But he had to make Steve believe him. It's for the best, right???  
> Maybe not. Stay tuned. Thanks to everyone still reading (sorry update is so late - my laptop needed repairs *sigh*)


	9. When will love be through with me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter - Steve and Bucky deal with the aftermath of their separation. Then, it's opening night of Earth's Mightiest Heroes but can Steve stay away from Bucky and La Chambre Rouge? How will the duke react if Steve can't? How is Bucky's health?  
> Questions answered in chapter 9 ;) 
> 
> Chapter warning - some mentions of suicidal thoughts but no actions. Don't read if it'll trigger you, be safe!

Steve had been stumbling around Paris, as drunk as he had ever been and angrier than ever, all afternoon.

The sun was setting, an ominous red glow laced the sky as Steve hobbled along the Pont des Arts losing his balance with every other step.

Red, just like the interior of La Chambre Rouge and Bucky’s lips. The colour of love. The colour of anger.

Steve gazed out at the water in despair. When he came to Paris he’d been so excited to experience art, beauty and love. He’d found all of them personified in Bucky but he’d been naïve.

He’d thought everyone saw the world as purely and innocently and he did. Deception, lies, cruelty - these were not words included in Steve’s vocabulary. He had always believed in the inherent goodness and beauty of people. To realise now, after all this time, that he’d been wrong was devastating.

Steve felt destroyed; he’d been sure in his heart of hearts that what he’d had with Bucky had been real. Kissing him had taken his breath away, when Bucky’s lips touched his skin he felt electricity shoot through his veins. It had been exhilarating and intimate.

Steve had felt a swelling in his heart when Bucky smiled, when he laughed. He’d felt connected to him in a way that he’d never felt before – ready to share his life and dreams, he’d felt like – like he’d die without Bucky.

Steve had never doubted for a second that he’d been in love with Bucky – true love. He’d been wrong, though. He knew that now; true love could never live while one party was playing a part, acting a role.

If he’d been wrong about the purity and existence of true love, maybe he’d been wrong about other things. Steve thought the meaning of life was to find true love, your soulmate. If that wasn’t so then what was he living in pursuit of?

The questions were abundant, overwhelming. Steve decided to drink them away.

Maybe he didn’t want to live in this world. Bucky had opened his eyes to reality – in which they weren’t in love - and it was bleak and harsh and empty.

Steve pondered the possibility of throwing himself off the Pont des Arts.

His drunken rage surged inside him at the thought. He couldn’t do that – no, not yet – not until Bucky knew, not until Bucky had seen the mess he’d made.

Actions had consequences, as did selfishness, and Bucky needed to know that.

Steve wouldn’t be going anywhere until he looked the man he had loved so deeply, and honestly, in the eye and made him truly realise what he’d done to Steve.

\---

Bucky was sat in his dressing room, trying not to look at his reflection in the mirror of his vanity table.

He was utterly disgusted with himself. In his mind, he was scum – the lowliest cockroach crawling round the cesspool of La Chambre Rouge.

Eventually, and hopefully soon, the disease festering inside of him would stamp out his life and squish him under its dark, eclipsing shoe.

It was opening night. Bucky was dressed to the nines in his outfit for the first act; a jewelled, red and black pair of camouflage trousers and an open waistcoat supporting the same design.  

“You look stunning.” Natalia’s voice woke Bucky from his haze of self-loathing.

“Thanks.” He mumbled in a half-hearted reply.

“So I heard from Clint and his pals that a week ago you broke our dear ex-writer’s heart, tore it to shreds, set the pieces on fire and then ground them into the dirt?” Natalia observed, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

Bucky’s only reply was to grunt.

Natalia whistled in disbelief, “Harsh, Barnes, even for you.”

“Did you want something?” He snapped.

His dearest friend could only sigh in sympathy. “You look like shit, Bucky. You haven’t eaten or slept in days.”

“Pre-wedding jitters.” Bucky scoffed.

Natasha wrinkled her nose in disbelief. “I saw the way you were with Steve,” Bucky felt tears sting the back of his eyes at the mere mention of his lover’s name, “the way you smiled when he walked into the room: I’d never seen you that happy. Not in all the years we’ve known one another.”

“Do you have a point?” He choked out.

“My point is,” she continued, her voice stern and impatient, “you’re full of shit. You love him. So what I don’t quite understand is why you’re sat here preparing to marry some gross, murderous old bastard when you could be sailing into the sunset with Steve. Tell me you didn’t abandon true love for this hellhole – you must know it’s not worth that; nothing is!”

Bucky hadn’t told her the truth. How could he? He and Natalia had depended on each other since they first met. If he died, she would feel as though she had lost half of herself; it was better, Bucky concluded, that he married Pierce and gained her resentment. Then, he could slip out of her life, seamlessly. Bucky didn’t want to hurt anyone else in the way he’d shattered Steve’s heart.

“Love is just a game.” Bucky finally responded.

“Yes,” Natalia agreed, “and the best players always win.”

“Meaning?” Bucky asked.

“You haven’t seen the last of Steve Rogers.”

With that said she left his dressing room, swiftly and stealthily. Her words hung in the air though, clinging to it, as they echoed in Bucky’s mind.

\---

Natalia was always right. Bucky should have learned that lesson a long time ago.

The first act of “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes”, on the play’s debut night, had gone flawlessly. The audience were engaged, the casts’ performance was energetic, and the script hit the perfect note between comedy and drama.

Bucky couldn’t enjoy the success, though. He yearned for Steve to be there – sitting in that audience – listening to everyone laugh and cry at his words, watching them gape at his wonderful music.

He hadn’t, however, wished for Steve to slam the doors of La Chambre Rouge open – half way into the second act – drunk off his ass and screaming that he owed Bucky money.

Steve looked terrible; his eyes were red and bloodshot, his clothes were dirty from excessive wear, and his hair was dishevelled.

He was still the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen.

He had to get Steve out of there, though. Already, Tony and Thor were scrambling to push Steve out the doors but he wouldn’t budge. The duke and his detail of bodyguards/hitmen were also rising to their feet.

Steve kept pushing and pushing against his friends, struggling forward, his eyes fixated on Bucky.

“Go!” Bucky screamed, his voice hoarse and desparate.

“Not until I fuckin’ pay you,” Steve spat back, “If what we had was only business, I owe you a lot of money.”

The writer was slurring his words, still stumbling forward.

“Please.” Bucky begged, his eyes darting from Steve to the duke, praying his soon-to-be husband wouldn’t harm the love of his life.

The duke pulled out a pistol.

Bucky’s mother once told him that God only answers the prayers of the innocent.

The deafening cry of a gunshot filled La Chambre Rouge. Bucky fell to his knees as the world faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT.  
> Also I finally updated, whoops. It took ages basically i've had exams and been on holiday and I'm a shit head. I'M SORRY FOR NEGLECTING YOU MY DARLING READERS. 
> 
> To everyone who has read this story from chapters 1-9, I want you to know that you are the reason I write and a reason for my happiness.  
> As always I love feedback, it's great to know what you guys think.


	10. I tell my love to wreck it all, cut out all the ropes and let me fall.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Shots have rung out in La Chambre Rouge, but will Steve and Bucky walk away unscathed?  
> Will they rekindle their love? Their fates are contained in this final chap.

Everything had happened so fast – the events of that night must have unravelled quickly and chaotically, probably in the space of a few minutes.

To Steve, though, it was as if everything had happened in slow motion.

He was drunk, yes, but Steve felt as though he’d never experienced true clarity in his life until those few minutes.

The slow motion had set in when Pierce raised his pistol in Steve’s direction.

 _The French have always been willing to die for love,_ Steve thought, _and so am I._

In what he considered to be his last few seconds on this Earth, Steve looked to Bucky.

He was screaming, yelling, for Pierce to lower his gun and show mercy. He was struggling to escape Rumlow’s grip – his boss was holding Bucky back, tightly – and run directly into the line of fire.

Steve knew, then and there, that Bucky did love him. Somewhere, deep inside his heart, Steve had always known.

Bucky’s punishing words had done just what he’d intended them to do; they had caused a throbbing pain to erupt so loudly in Steve’s heart that he couldn’t pay attention to the underlying truth living in the depth of his soul.

The underlying truth of their love.

Steve had messed everything up. He never should have let Bucky lie to him, Steve should have had faith in their relationship. He should’ve had faith in their love.

But he hadn’t.

So, Steve squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impact of the bullet and the bite of its pain.

A pistol fired. Loud as an atomic bomb in the still room.

 _This is it,_ Steve realised, _goodbye brains._

Steve felt the impact as he was knocked off his feet. All he could hear was the echo of blood in his ears, the rapid drumming of his heart in pure fear.

Soon, though, he felt a dull ache in his shoulder.

And then he heard another gunshot.

He’d been, Steve realised, shot in his left shoulder. His eyes darted in Bucky’s direction. The man he loved – and who evidently still loved him too – had fallen to the floor.

 _The other shot_ , Steve panicked.

In those milliseconds, Steve was more afraid than he had ever been – he felt his heart leap into his throat and limit his ability to breathe. His vision blurred, from tears and worry, as he scrambled to his feet.

As he stood up, Steve noticed that Tony was standing there, right arm extended, holding a smoking gun.

The duke was on the floor clutching his chest.                

The duke had taken a step forward and pointed his gun at Steve’s head. As it turned out, Tony always kept a handgun in the back of his trousers. Thor was strong enough to subdue the duke’s guards as well.

Steve looked at Tony – blue eyes filled with fear and complete confusion, oh and some emerging gratitude.

“Self-defence.” Tony shrugged, smirking.

\---

Bucky came around only a minute after his body had failed him.

 _Steve no,_ he initially thought as Rumlow helped him to his shaking feet.

Bucky noted, all of a sudden that he was crying.

Through hazy vision, he saw Steve leaning on Tony clutching his left shoulder.

 _Alive_ , Bucky rejoiced.

Bucky scanned the room for the duke; it was more than possible he’d take another shot – sure not to miss this time.

When his eyes fell on his would be husband, Bucky saw the duke was sprawled on the reflective, blood red floor of La Chambre Rouge.

He was bleeding from his chest.

Guilt overcame Bucky like an impending wave finally swallowing him whole. Yes, Bucky would readily admit that he’d rather the duke be shot in the chest than his Steve. Nonetheless, he had never wished to be the cause of a death match between two men.

He hobbled to the duke’s side, kneeling by his wounded body.

“Bucky…” He choked out, voice faint.

“I-I’m sorry…” Bucky didn’t know what to say, “I love him, I do, I’m sorry. I think I always have…even before I met him.”

“I could’ve given you everything,” The duke claimed, exhaling deeply, “anything money could buy, I would’ve made it yours.”

“I used to think that was all I ever wanted,” Bucky conceded, “then I fell in love and that became all I cared about. Steve became all I cared about…money can’t buy love.”

“I know,” The duke coughed, “I know. It’s all my fault boy; I was so obsessed with possessing you I-I would’ve killed a young man, a boy, guilty of nothing but love.”

The duke was crying now, silent tears streaking his wrinkled cheeks. This was the most human Bucky had ever seen the man. It saddened him; it reminded Bucky that every sordid client who slithered through the doors of La Chambre Rouge had a human being under their creepy, thick skinned disguise.

“You didn’t kill him. He’s going to be fine.” This was Bucky’s meek attempt at comforting the dying duke.

“Good,” He chuckled, though it rattled in his throat, “you really are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, though.”

“Smoke and mirrors.” Bucky smirked.

“I-I had to have you…” The duke muttered as his eyes fluttered shut and the life flooded out of his body.

Bucky shed a tear for the man, and the life Pierce might have had if the underbelly of Paris had never grabbed hold of him.

 _Steve_ , Bucky’s mind cried out.

The courtesan ran to his writer, fast as he could with the pounding in his head and the ache deep in his limbs.

“Bucky!” Steve exclaimed, relieved, “You’re okay.”

“I-I’m with you Steve…to the end of the line.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I lied before Steve. I lied, you need to believe me I’ll explain everything to you if you just give me the chance. Please, Steve--”

Bucky’s rambling was cut off by Steve’s eager lips crashing into his own.

“I know, Buck, I think I always knew.” Steve said, as he broke their kiss and leaned his forehead against Bucky’s. Their eyes connected, and Bucky knew everything was going to be okay.

His world was right again.

“So you’re with me to the end of the line, huh?” Steve asked, smirking.

Bucky nodded, and smiled bashfully, “As long as you’ll have me.”

“Careful,” Steve warned, “you keep on like that and I might never let you go.”

Steve brushed a stray strand of dark brown hair away from his lover’s eyes. Bucky chewed his lip and looked to the ground.

“Listen, Steve, I have to tell you something before you decide you want to be with me.”

“My minds made up, nothing can change the fact that I love you.” This was the man he loved, Bucky realised - Steve Rogers, stubborn as ever.

“I-I’m not well, Steve, I’m sick.”

“Sick?” Steve felt his stomach drop. A concerned hand reached out to gently encircle Bucky’s own shaking hands.

“The doctors say I only have weeks left, maybe months.”

Pain flashed across Steve’s face, replaced seconds later with deep concern.

“I-I’ll get you the best doctors I can. I’ll take care of you. We-We can get through this, Buck. We can get through anything together.” Steve’s eyes watered as he made promise after promise.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life with you – however long that may be. We’ll be happy, Steve.” Bucky made a promise of his own.

“Of course we’ll be happy,” Steve said, pulling Bucky into his arms, “we’ll be together.”

Bucky snorted, “I know this is France but tone down the cheese.”

Steve laughed, “Never. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes, to the end of the line, come what may.”

“I love you too, more than I can say. I want to spend all my time on this Earth with you, if that’s alright.”

“I think I can handle that.” Steve decided, his smile growing.

“Keep on like that and I might never let you go.” Bucky muttered into Steve’s chest, echoing his earlier words.

“I like the sound of that.” Steve chuckled, nestling his head against the nape of Bucky’s neck.

“You know what, Rogers? I do, too.”

\---

Bucky Barnes died on a Sunday.

3 months of Sundays had come and gone between that night at La Chambre Rouge and the night of Bucky’s passing.

He and Steve lived out those months in bliss. Bucky told his lover that thanks to Steve, he’d finally found the happiness he’d been desperately seeking since his childhood.

The pair bought a tiny shack on the outskirts of Paris a few days after the duke died. It wasn’t much but it was a home. Bucky had never called a place home before.

They grew vegetables, cooked with food from a nearby market, and Steve fought tooth and nail to get Bucky a kind and good doctor to oversee his treatment.

Steve made Bucky laugh each and every day, even on the really bad ones. He nursed the man he loved until there was nothing more he could do.

As for Steve, well, Bucky gave him a lifetimes worth of happiness in only a few months. Steve had written the words in his own play, only a few months earlier:  
“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and to be loved in return.”  
Bucky had given him that, he’d taught Steve the greatest thing he’d ever learn. Steve couldn’t have been more thankful.

The pair didn’t have much in the way of money, but what they did have they thought invaluable.

They had love and happiness.

Bucky Barnes died a happy, retired courtesan. All thanks to Steve Rogers.

 

 Fin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER. Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting, leaving kudos - it kept me going and really made the writing worth it :)   
> Sorry for the ending; I tried to make it happyish aha.   
> Please let me know what you think/if you'd read a sequel. I'm toying with the idea of a little story about their time in their love shack on the outskirts of Paris - fluff overload.

**Author's Note:**

> This is ridiculous, I know, but I couldn't resist writing it. It's rated M for later chapters which will have a lot more smut and sexy stucky times in them (like the next one, for example). Updates will come every week as long as you guys like it? If this is just too silly then maybe I'll trash it. So let me know if you enjoy?  
> Thanks for reading.


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